


Crash Pad

by Tamagoakura (orphan_account)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Drunkenness, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 17:13:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7692790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Tamagoakura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>America is drunk and needs a place to stay. Luckily for him, Cuba is still awake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crash Pad

**Prompt: "Have you lost your damn mind?!" Pairing: Wildcard**

* * *

 

"Hey buddy!" America greeted, as loud and annoying as always.

Cuba grimaced. It was nearly midnight, and he had work in the morning. Even if he didn't, the very last thing he wanted to see stumbling around in his doorway was a very irritating, very drunk American.

"Don't just stand there, you big stick in the mud. Let me in!" America laughed, pushing past Cuba and tracking clumps of mud on the floor. He noticed this and laughed again, more amused than apologetic. "It was raining cats and dogs out there earlier."

"America, go home," Cuba commanded, still holding the door open. Although relations between the two nations had eased as of late, Cuba still didn't exactly like the man. America had been coming over for vacations lately and every time he did, he made a mess of things.

"Don't be a party pooper," America said, his tone a mix of pouting and mockery.

Cuba even hated the way the man's lips popped, over-emphasizing those Ps. _Party pooper_. What an asshole. Cuba sighed, shutting the door. America had no intention of leaving and Cuba wasn't in the mood to attempt to physically wrestle the powerful nation from his home. "Put it on the rack," he chided when America tossed his bomber jacket across the back of the couch.

The slurred declaration of, "My bad!" floated in the air as Cuba went into the kitchen to get a cup of water. When he came back America was laying spread out on the couch.

"Drink this," he said, holding the cup out. "If you get sick on anything I'll kick your ass."

America took the cup and finished it in a few loud glups. "Thanks, bro."

Cuba refilled the cup and set it on the coffee table. "I'm going to bed. If you're here when I wake up I'll kick your ass."

"Is that all you can think about?" America teased. "My ass?"

"I don't want to think about you at all."

"Hey, Cuba," America said, fingers catching onto the man's wrist as he started to walk away.

He yanked his hand away. "What?"

"Let me suck you off," America said, licking his lips in, what Cuba assumed was supposed to be, an erotic fashion. He just looked stupid, Cuba thought, worming his tongue around his too-wide mouth.

"Have you lost your damn mind?" He snapped, taking a step back to be out of the American's reach.

"Come o--n," America pushed, "It'll be fun."

"Go to sleep or get out."

America frowned, puffing his cheeks in a way that almost reminded Cuba of Canada, although significantly less cute. "You ain't even gotta do nothin', I just want to suck you off."

"Why the hell would you want to do that?" Cuba asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Because I like sucking dick," America stated matter-of-factly. "Eating pussy too, but you don't have one."

"Get out."

"Oh come on! I'll do all the work, I promise." The blond whined, stretching out across the couch.

Cuba rubbed his eyes with one hand, uttering a small growl of frustration and letting his hands fall to his side with a defeated grumble. "Fine, make it quick."

America let out a little whoop of joy and sat up expectantly, almost like a dog waiting for his meal. The action might even have been endearing if Cuba wasn't exhausted and annoyed. America leaned forward over the armrest, mouth open and tongue out. His eyes shone when Cuba pulled his soft dick from his pajama pants. To his surprise, when he slid it into America's mouth the man actually _moaned_.

"I didn't expect you to be such a slut," Cuba commented off-handedly. He let America do as he pleased, interested to know what sort of technique he developed over his centuries alive.

"Thanks, dude." America said with Cuba's cock lying on his tongue. The words sounded more like _hanks hoo_.

Cuba actually chuckled; every time he thought America couldn't look more stupid, the man one-upped himself.

America lapped at the tip playfully, swirled his tongue around the expanding girth but didn't yet take it fully into his mouth. Instead he tilted his head, his entire body shifting on the couch exaggeratedly, and ran his wet lips along the underside. His tongue slid back out, wet and warm, a delightful shade of pink against Cuba's swarthy tone. He licked up to the tip then slipped his tongue under the man's foreskin. Cuba groaned as America teased the sensitive skin under it, coaxing it back from the tip.

He sucked the head between his lips, massaged it with his tongue then pulled back only to start the process anew. His soft slurps filled the room for a spell, an intoxicating blend of relaxing and erotic to Cuba's ears. America certainly knew what he was doing, he had to offer the man at least that. The sensation was teasing, gentle, wholly enjoyable but it would never get him off.

"Stop fucking around," Cuba said, one hand going around the back of America's head and pushing him down on his cock.

America let out a pleased hum as the man's length filled his mouth. He pressed his lips around it and lathered it with his tongue. The excessive spit made a lewd sound, louder than before, as he bobbed his head enthusiastically. He let out soft, contented moans every now and then as he lavished Cuba's cock. America pulled away for a second and when he spoke his wet lips brushed against the head. "It's so big it kinda hurts my jaw."

"Don't you ever shut up?" Cuba sighed exasperatedly, pushing America back down onto himself. Whatever America was trying to say was cut off, devolving into a series of muffled coughs. Instead of protesting the treatment, the tipsy nation happily went back to his ministrations.

America scooted a little on the couch, his back arching down in an enticing dip from the way he was laying. One hand pressed against the armrest to keep himself steady. The other gently squeezed Cuba's plush hip and pulled him closer so he could take him deeper. America's eyes fell closed as he sucked the man's cock, massaging it with his tongue and slowly working it back into his throat.

Precome, salty and somewhat sweet from the large quantity of fruit Cuba ate daily, mixed with his saliva. He moaned around the flesh in his mouth, quickening his movements. The tip of the man's cock prodded at the entrance of his throat, almost making him gag. Despite his fervor, his throat was sensitive and ready to retch at the smallest disturbance, especially now with booze in his belly and the room rocking dizzily around him.

He bobbed his head faster, taking Cuba's quicker breathing to mean he was doing a good job. He considered reaching down to relieve himself, but Cuba had been hesitant enough to allow him this treat. He didn't want to make a mess and make the man angry. America took it as far into his mouth as he could, slurping loudly as he worked his tongue along the shaft.

Cuba's breath hitched and he came, his hips jerking forward as his milky seed sprayed out across America's tongue and down his throat. When he tried to pull back America's grip on his hip tightened, keeping him still while he swallowed every drip that Cuba had to offer. America's mouth released him but his hand stayed latched onto the man's flesh, keeping him there so he could lap up all of the come that he hadn't been able to swallow directly.

Finally America's grip loosened. He winked and licked his lips, "Thanks, dude."

"I don't want to hear anything else out of you," Cuba said, tucking himself back into his pants. "Go to bed."

"I'll be gone in the morning." America said, rolling over to lay on his back. He waved idly in the air, a lazy half-wave, "G'night!"

Cuba flipped the light off and disappeared down the hall to his room, ready for his long-overdue bed time.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Axis Powers: Hetalia and I make no money from this story. This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to the lives of any persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.


End file.
